Delia's Gone
by Ben Barrett
Summary: Stan kills Wendy. Oneshot.


**A Note From Ben: I don't know what possessed me to write this, to be perfectly honest with you. I actually wrote this somewhere in the middle of _Analyzing Kyle_ but didn't release it because I figured it would probably be viewed as childish and stupid. However, I recently read a Style fic where Stan chooses Wendy over Kyle and she actually seems to get off on it. It pissed me off to the point where I don't care anymore. Wendy gets hers in this one. Also, you should know this is a humorous attempt at ripping on songfics, because I've read so many that were _so lame!_**

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**Disclaimer: I own neither South Park nor the song _Delia's Gone _by Johnny Cash.**

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**Delia's Gone**

_**Delia, oh Delia**_

_**Delia all my life**_

_**If I hadn'ta shot poor Delia**_

_**I'da had her for my wife**_

Stan lay on his cot, reflecting on what he'd done. Surely the bitch hadn't deserved it, had she? Sure, she had dumped him to go fuck Token, but was that an acceptable reason to shoot her stupid ass?

_Damn right, it was, _Stan thought bitterly. _Dumb bitch!_

_**Delia's gone**_

_**One more round**_

_**Delia's gone**_

He was so proud of himself, he felt the need to stand up on his bed and shout to everyone within hearing range that he had killed her, oh yes he had killed her ass good. This was greeted by jeers and shouts for him to shut the fuck up. When he shouted it again, people started throwing anything they could get their hands on.

_**I went up to Memphis**_

_**And I met Delia there**_

_**Found her in her parlor**_

_**And I tied her to her chair**_

Thinking back on it, he couldn't help but smile. He had kicked her fucking door in and found her buck naked, riding Token like a Brahma bull. He had gone up and punched the black asshole in the face, then pulled Wendy off onto the floor.

"Put some fucking clothes on," he told her, then, turning to Token he said, "Get the fuck OUT!"

Token wasted no time jumping up off the couch and running out of the house like he was on fire, much to the angry screams and protests of Wendy. Stan grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the kitchen, where he promptly tied her up.

_**Delia's gone**_

_**One more round**_

_**Delia's gone**_

Stan snapped out of his reverie and began cackling madly. He jumped up on his bed and began to dance an Irish jig while singing a song about how dead Wendy really was.

_**She was low-down and triflin'**_

_**And she was cold and mean**_

_**Kind of evil make me want to grab**_

_**My submachine**_

When he murdered her that fateful night, he remembered while dancing, she had called him all kinds of foul names. He only laughed in her face.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry."

_**Delia's gone**_

_**One more round**_

_**Delia's gone**_

Stan stopped dancing for just a brief second, for he could hear someone running in his direction. From the sound of it they were either a very big someone or a whole lot of someones, but he didn't care. Let them come and he'd do to them exactly what he did to Wendy. For now, he was just going to dance and remember how glorious it was.

_**The first time I shot her**_

_**I shot her in the side**_

_**Hard to watch her suffer**_

_**But with a second shot she died**_

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Wendy shouted.

Stan got tired of her screams after so long and decided to stuff an apple in her mouth. The sight of it made him laugh hysterically (and to this day, he still laughs). He couldn't help but think that the apple in her mouth gave her an uncanny resemblance to a…

"…roast pig," he said.

"Mrrrph?"

"You look like a roast pig with that apple in your mouth."

Stan walked out of the house and went to the bushes in the front yard, where he'd stashed his gun. He was still too young to carry one, of course, but that hadn't kept him from stealing a sub-machine gun from his uncle Jimbo. Oh, yes, and it was a beauty. It had a fast reload feature, a laser scope, and a hair trigger, perfect for killing triflin' little bitches.

Returning to the kitchen, he noticed that she had attempted some sort of half-assed escape attempt, but had only succeeded in turning the chair over on its side. He grabbed her and pulled her upright before pointing the gun at her.

"Mrrph!" she screamed.

"I break up with you," he said with an evil smirk. Then he planted two bullets in her.

_**Delia's gone**_

_**One more round**_

_**Delia's gone**_

More objects were being thrown in Stan's direction, the shouts of protest were getting louder, and the someones were getting really close now. Still, Stan danced.

_**Jailer, oh jailer**_

_**Jailer I can't sleep**_

_**Cause all around my bedside**_

_**I heart the patter of Delia's feet.**_

The guards finally reached Stan Marsh's cell. There were at least six of them, all armed to the teeth and looking extremely pissed. Still, Stan wasn't worried. He could make this whole thing very interesting.

"We're coming in there, Marsh, and oh, you're going to be sorry!" the guard with the keys growled at him.

Stan simply dropped his pants and defecated on the bed. He then picked up the refuse and began chunking it through the bars at those trying to get in. They fell back with cries of loathing, disgusted with the mess they were being bombarded with. One of them even vomited.

_**Delia's gone**_

_**One more round**_

_**Delia's gone**_

The cell door was jerked open and a whole swarm of guards, at least ten in number now, pounced on him and began to beat him senseless.

_**So if your woman's dev'lish**_

_**You can let her run**_

_**Or you can bring her down and do her like**_

_**Delia got done**_

As Stan was being carried away, battered and bruised, he couldn't help but think to himself that he _had _gotten the bitch back good. He laughed weakly and told the guards carrying him that they smelled like shit. They looked down at him in disgust and clubbed him over the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

_**Delia's gone**_

_**One more round**_

_**Delia's gone.**_


End file.
